Origin- Mark 2

Chapter 2- When Everything Was Depressing But Manageable

I lived a bleak existence.

My daily routine would consist of waking up, drinking a coffee, story hunting, eating anything Marco hadn’t yet found, lying around, crying sometime at midday, craving a bottle of beer and then an early night because I had no friends.

I’d occasionally go to the toilet as well.

Or trip over Poirot, my Mum’s cat (he had two splodges on his nose that looked like Poirot’s moustache), curse the cat and get yelled at by my Mum for my ‘obscene words’ and for kicking the cat, when it clearly saw me taking a step and decided to play a game of human hurdles that ultimately backfired and resulted in him flying across the room like a furry missile.

Or watch Marco eat something that had been on the floor for at least a week.   

You ever seen a sausage roll that was overstuffed with meat and it all kind of oozes out of the cracks in the pastry and the meat’s all discoloured and it just looks completely inedible?

Imagine his body is the meat and the pastry is his clothes, and add a mess of dirty brown hair that he ties back in a ponytail. I swear he only grows it that long to rub it in my face.

Add the shallowest nose in the world too so that when you look at his weird, sludge coloured eyes they seem too far apart.

You are picturing my brother.

Now take that image and give it boobs.

You are picturing my Mum.